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“Asshole.” Somehow said affectionately. “You don’t get to choose the truth for us. Swear never to keep such secrets from us.”
It seems so important to them. “All right.” I try to gather my thoughts. It’s not easy. “Why… are you here?”
“A nurse here told us we could visit you,” Riddick says, and I nod automatically.
I feel strangely… disappointed.
No fucking idea why.
“She told us you had had surgery,” Brylee says, her face drawn with what looks like fatigue and worry. “She got us in to see you. You’d just come out of the operating room. You were…”
Her voice catches and she bites her lip.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, and I mean it, I’m sorry for everything, and I want to explain, but my energy is fading fast. “So sorry. I am…”
My lids are heavy, too heavy.
“We’re here because of you,” Brylee says, waking me up. “Because you’re ours.”
Her words swirl in the black hole that is my mind right now. What does she mean?
“And we’re yours,” Riddick says, sitting on my other side.
His words sink in faster and I blink. Wait…is he really saying what I think he’s saying?
“But what the hell was that stunt you pulled with your will?” he goes on blithely, unaware of my confusion. “You’re changing it back the way it was the moment you’re out of the hospital.”
I don’t even ask how they know about my will. “I am?” I say faintly.
“Rid!” Brylee is making hushing noises. “Not now. He’s tired. And it was sweet of him.”
“Whatever. I don’t want no sugar daddy,” Riddick says, and unexpectedly leans in to kiss my cheek. “I want a boyfriend. I want you, man. Just you. No bells and whistles.”
“Just remember I saw him first,” Brylee says and sticks out her tongue at him.
No idea what the fuck they’re talking about but my mouth twitches, and hell, it’s been a while since I last smiled.
“Funny,” I whisper, still smiling, and drift back into sleep.
***
“I want you. Just you.”
And then, “Remember I saw him first.”
Christ. Did that really happen? That part of the conversation?
Frowning at the far wall—since I was finally allowed this morning to a half-sitting position and given funky green Jell-O via the mouth, yeah, talk about oral pleasures—I try to decide whether those words were part of a dream.
They have to be, right?
I mean, we’ve established that I fucked up royally this time with Brylee and Riddick. It’s a wonder they still speak to me, to be honest.
Man, I look forward to the drug-free day when I’ll be able to tell reality apart from dream again. It will be a fucking relief.
Being able to tell my feelings apart will be an improvement, too. Though, I know what I feel. This isn’t friendship. It isn’t camaraderie. It certainly isn’t a crush.
No, it’s more. So much more it scares me. And if they don’t want me in their lives anymore…
